


Payoff

by MagpieMinx (CardinalFox)



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Age Difference, Choking, F/M, Light Dom/sub overtones, POV Second Person, Pet name, Professor Krennic, Professor/Student Relationship, Reader-Insert, Responsible Dom Orson Krennic, Vaginal Fingering, breath play, mild hair pulling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 18:31:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11213796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CardinalFox/pseuds/MagpieMinx
Summary: It's the end of the semester, finals week is over, and you're picking up your final from your hot professor.





	Payoff

**Author's Note:**

  * For [disorderedorder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/disorderedorder/gifts).



> For K, as a belated and final birthday present.

Despite being the chair of the department of engineering, Dr. Orson Krennic still teaches a class or two every semester.  He’s widely acknowledged in the engineering, math, and physics departments as one of the hardest professors around, maybe even  _ the _ hardest.  He assigns two problem sets per week, has three hard midterms, and a final that most students can’t finish.  He doesn’t have a sign-in sheet for attendance, but every class starts with a thin smile and a brief bit of praise for showing up.  Similarly, he ends every class with a reminder of when his office hours are, should someone need help.

You’re not an engineering major.  You’re not a math or a physics major either, in fact, you’re not in any of the STEM fields.  You’re actually an english major with a minor in creative writing.  So how did you, of all people, end up in one of Dr. Krennic’s engineering classes?

A dare.  Your (crazy) physics major roommate had dared you (while you were both tipsy) to take a class with Dr. Krennic.  She’d told you that he was teaching a beginning engineering course next semester, one that probably even you could do.  She promised to help if you got stuck, or (and she’d said this very slyly at the time, for reasons you didn’t understand until later) you could always go to office hours.

It wasn’t until the first day of class that you knew why she’d said it the way she did.  You’d barely heard the “You’re adults, and I expect you to understand that your grades will reflect the effort you put into this class.  I’m not your mother or your babysitter or your high school teachers.  If you don’t show up for the midterms or the final or don’t turn in your problem sets, I won’t be chasing you down” speech he gave that you’d heard from other professors throughout your undergraduate career.  You were too busy staring at him.

He was about average height, with startlingly blue eyes set in a narrow face and wavy, silvery hair that might have been a light brown when he was younger.  He dressed well in a suit and coordinated tie and had an erect bearing that suggested a stint in the military somewhere in his past.  He liked to stride back and forth across the front of the classroom while he was lecturing and had a kind of energy that was as intriguing as it was intimidating.

The fact that Dr. Krennic was handsome made an already difficult class even more challenging for you, and you had had to wonder whether office hours would actually be any help.  

You’d gone anyway.

While it was true that Dr. Krennic was distracting and made you nervous, he’d actually been incredibly helpful.  He’d patiently explained all the basic concepts you’d been having trouble with in a way that you understood, and then he’d walked you through a few different types of problems on the next two problem sets.  He’d told you to feel free to continue coming to office hours if you were still struggling with the material, so you did.

Tonight, you’re back again, but it’s because you’re here to pick up your final.  You didn’t mean to wait until the last minute like this, there’s maybe 10 minutes before Dr. Krennic leaves and is officially done for the semester too.  You walk faster down the hallway of closed doors, their occupants already gone for the night.  Dr. Krennic’s is the only door still open, and you realize as you reach it that he’s packing up to leave.  You rap on the door as he slides papers into his bag and he looks up sharply.  His expression is initially suspicious, but then it relaxes and he smiles.

“Ah, yes, come in.  I thought you’d be here earlier,” he says conversationally, gesturing to a thin stack of papers on his desk, “I have the finals right here.”

“I’m sorry, I thought I’d be here earlier too,” you say apologetically, “I wanted a chance to look over the test with you before I left, but I guess there’s not really any time time for that-”  

“Why?” Dr. Krennic asks without looking up from leafing through the remaining tests, “Engineering isn’t your major.”

“Oh,” you say, startled, feeling like an imposter, “No, it’s not, but how did you know?”

“I noticed that yours was the only email that wasn’t already in the department list at the beginning of the semester,” Dr. Krennic says with a little smile, plucking one test from the few remaining and handing it to you across his desk, “There we are.  Well done.”

There’s a circled, red 87 written on the top of the paper and your face lights up with delight as you see it and take the stapled pages, eagerly flipping through them.  The glowing sense of pride only expands as you look through the problems, see that all the time and effort you’ve put in during the semester has finally, really paid off.  Every problem you attempted, you completed correctly, including the extra credit.  You might not have finished the test, but the score is more than respectable and you’ll be coming out of the class with at least a B+, maybe even an A-.

“You look pleased,” Dr. Krennic says with a brief chuckle, “But then you’ve a right to be.  Are you sure you don’t want to change majors?  You’ve talent that the engineering department would certainly benefit from.”

“Ah, thanks, but no thanks, Dr. Krennic,” you say as you flip your test closed, feeling your cheeks heat a little as the feeling from before comes back, that you never really belonged in Dr. Krennic’s beginning engineering class, “This class was really hard for me and I-  I really want to write.”

Dr. Krennic sighs, settling his hands on his hips as he says, “Well, I suppose that was too much to ask for, but I wish you the best in all your endeavors.  I’m sure your work ethic will serve you as well in writing as it did for this class.”  He smiles fondly as he looks at you, seeming to pause before adding, “You should still drop in if you’re passing by, I’d like to see how you’re doing.”

You blink, feel your lips part in shock because while Dr. Krennic has been approachable throughout the semester, he’s never been personal.  He never told anecdotes about his family, friends, or life despite being both glib and charming.  In spite of the ease with which he talked, Dr. Krennic was, you’d gathered, a fairly private person, but here he was saying that he’d like to see you again-

You stare at Dr. Krennic, feel your heart skip a beat before your pulse starts racing, pounding in your ear.  He’s not looking at you with confusion or concern, instead he’s watching you with a half-hidden wariness like he doesn’t know if you’ve understood what he’s said, but he wants you to.  In all honesty, you don’t know if you have, but you think you have, so you decide to take a chance.

“Would you like to get coffee sometime, Dr. Krennic?” you ask him as innocently as you can, just in case he didn’t mean what you thought he did.  

“Sometime?” he asks in return, his wariness fading into something you can’t quite place.  It makes you a little nervous, but you step closer and put your test down on his desk.

“Well, how about now, then?” you push, testing the shifting grounds, trying to see if you were right, if this is what Dr. Krennic was insinuating with his unexpected comment.

“Perhaps,” Dr. Krennic murmurs, motioning for you to come around his desk as he licks his lips, “We could skip the coffee tonight.  And close the door, please.”

You’re relieved that you interpreted Dr. Krennic correctly, but mostly you’re excited.  Who hasn’t wanted to get with their hot professor?  Dr. Krennic might be a little older, but he has the energy of a younger man and the silvery hair doesn’t make him any less attractive.  He’s not married, a fact that is frequently talked about by all the students in his classes.  He also has the appeal of being more emotionally mature than your peers.

You push the door shut, hear the latch click as you step around the desk.  Dr. Krennic pushes his chair, his bag still sitting on the seat, away.  It rolls across the floor until it bumps into the bookshelf along the back wall of his office.  You stop when there’s maybe half a step’s worth of space between you and Dr. Krennic, pause and wait for some kind of cue that you can touch him, or maybe kiss him.

“You’re not scared,” he comments idly, lifting a hand to brush the back of his curled index finger against your cheek, “Or overeager.  I thought you might be one or the other.  You’re a good student, but I’ve seen the way you stare at me.”  His curled index finger is suddenly under your chin, lifting your face as Dr. Krennic bends.  His lips touch yours lightly for a second, and then he pulls away just far enough for his mouth to hover over yours.  You can feel his breath on your lips, a warm, gentle movement of air that you inhale on instinct.  You’re so distracted by this that you forget what he’s said to you.

Dr. Krennic laughs, kisses you again, his hand dropping so that he can gently take hold of your hips.  He turns your back to the desk, guides you back against the edge.  It presses into the curve of your ass, sharp and hard, until Dr. Krennic reaches a little lower and lifts you onto the cool, smooth surface.  He nips your lip gently as he adjusts your position, running a finger along the waistband of your shorts, chuckling when you inhale sharply.

“How much experience do you have?” he asks briskly, both of his hands sliding under the hem of your shirt and running along the curve of your waist to your lower back.  He settles one palm on your spine, but the fingertips of his other hand slide down the back of your shorts, teasing at the cleft of your ass.  You can’t help a shiver before you try to answer.

“An ex-boyfriend,” you reply, wrapping one of your legs around the back of his thigh and clumsily trying to pull him closer.  Dr. Krennic smirks indulgently, steps closer so that his groin is right up against yours as both his hands slide over your skin to your hips.  He grips you, tugs you a little closer.  You’re balanced precariously on the edge of the desk, his body the only thing between you and overbalancing and stumbling back down to the floor.  

“Really?  That’s it?” Dr. Krennic asks after a pause, and he looks genuinely surprised as he says it, but you shrug.  Boys have never paid much attention to you.  Every once in awhile there might be one, occasionally two, but you’re not their first choice and you’re rarely interested in them in the same way.  

“Shame, they don’t know what they’re missing, do they?” Dr. Krennic says casually, leaning in to kiss you softly once, twice, three times.  By the third you’ve draped your arms over his shoulders, stretching up to return his kiss, sighing for more.  

“Dr. Krennic-”

“I think ‘Orson’ would be a little more appropriate, don’t you think?” he interrupts, sounding highly amused as he looks down at you, one eyebrow arched, “Unless you wanted to pretend to be a failing student that the morally questionable professor punishes?”

You feel your face flush with heat as you sputter some nonsense because you can’t decide what to say.  You started with “No! Of course not!” but then changed your mind halfway through to “It’s not like that” only to realize that you wouldn’t mind the scenario and tried to change it again to something like “Not right now”.  You bite your lip to stop yourself from embarrassing yourself further, and Dr. Krennic only laughs again, letting go of your hip so that he can run his fingers through your hair.

“I’m sorry, you’re very cute,” he tells you, “If you’d like to play that out another time, we could do it right here in my office.  I can stash a riding crop and a few other  _ interesting _ things in the drawer.”  There’s a teasing lilt to his tone as he says the words so that you can’t tell if he’s being serious or not, but a peek up at his face reveals only a warm, wicked kind of fondness that seems to promise in genuine affection that he’ll do anything with you that you’d like.

“You could wear a short skirt,” he suggests, his voice dropping into a seductive purr, hands sliding up your body, “And no panties underneath.  I could bend you over this desk and-”  His fingers twine into your hair as he tugs your head back, forcing you to arch your neck and expose it, forcing you to look at him, unable to look away because of the strength of his grip on your hair.  “-spank you.  Would you like that?”

“Yes,” you moan helplessly, panting through an open mouth, feeling your pussy clench around nothing twice.  You squeeze Dr. Krennic’s hips between your thighs, squirming on the desk, wishing he would do just that.  The intimation of the pain and the probably ensuing pleasure has you drunk on anticipation.

“I bet you’re soaking right through your panties, aren’t you?” he murmurs, releasing your other hip so that he can deftly pull open the button on your shorts, unzip the fly so he can push his fingers into the fabric, lets the tips dance over your sticky panties, applying pressure in just the right place.  You wriggle, trying to ride his fingers, wishing he would touch you properly.

“I should call you something,” Dr. Krennic goes on, sounding more thoughtful than aroused although he’s currently switched to rubbing a firm circle over your clit that has you whimpering and wordless, “Some special little pet name for times like these.  And a title for me, so you could be a proper submissive, don’t you think?  I can see you’re interested.”

“Interested might be an understatement,” you gasp, trying to sound cheeky, but only managing to sound breathless and needy.  Dr. Krennic just tightens his grip on your hair and nearly kisses you, hovering a hair above your lips, smirking as you try to reach him and fail.

“We’ll have a conversation about it later,” he promises, and then he stops talking as you lick his bottom lip with the tip of your tongue.

“Definitely later,” he says, suddenly sounding a little breathless himself as he releases your hair, extricating himself from between your thighs.  He hooks his fingers in your shorts and your panties, tugging them down over your hips and under your ass and over your thighs.  He only pulls them over your shoe on one side, leaves them hanging from your other ankle, but it’s enough to leave your thighs and pussy completely bare and unimpeded.

The sudden exposure make you pull your knees together, but Dr. Krennic coaxes your thighs apart again, his eyes riveted to your naked cunt.  He brushes his thumb over your clit, a light touch that you feel, but only just.  You’re too busy watching him lick his lips, his expression suddenly gone from seductive to predatory, from knowing to hungry.  He steps in between your thighs again, freeing his hands up to touch you.  He settles one palm over your pubic bone, applying light pressure as he strokes your clit with his thumb, and with the other hand he eases one thick finger, then a second, into your slick pussy.  He curls the tips of his fingers upward, adding a little extra intensity to the gentle thrusting motion he starts.

“Ahh, fuck,” you moan, bracing your hands on the desk behind you and trying not to just let yourself fall backwards.  It’s tempting to do, if only so you can really revel in all the sensations Dr. Krennic is creating with both his hands between your widespread thighs, but you’re worried about all the things he keeps on his desk.  Hitting your head on his paperweight would be very not-sexy, so you just try to support your upper body although it seems to take more concentration than you really have available at the moment.

“Sensitive,” is Dr. Krennic’s brief comment, his voice having dropped again into something much closer to a growl, “You’re just my cup of tea.”  

“Am I your teacup?” you ask, though you’re so distracted that you barely realize that what you’ve said isn’t quite the same thing, but Dr. Krennic laughs suddenly.

“Are you my Teacup?” he queries playfully, “Is that what you’d like to be called?  I have to admit, I like that.”

“I-” you start to say, then lose track of the thought as Dr. Krennic fits a third, thick finger into you.  You shudder at the stretch of accommodating three fingers, something you’ve never dared try on your own, but it’s not overly uncomfortable.  Instead, it just feels good, and you whine, trying to push your hips down, trying to pull Dr. Krennic’s fingers deeper into your body by squeezing them with your cunt.

“Is my little Teacup enjoying herself while her Master fucks her with his fingers?” Dr. Krennic purrs, and although the statement has an experimental quality lurking under the words, you feel yourself melt as you try to stammer an answer.

“Y-yes!  Yes, Dr-  M-master,” you say, catching yourself at the last second, “Please!”  

“We’ll be working on that, among other things, I see,” Dr. Krennic says, sounding pleased as he leans in to drop a quick kiss on your lips.  You try to return it, but he’s already pulling away, the hand on your pubic bone lifting so that he can undo his own pants.  The buckle of his belt jingles as he tugs it open, chiming again as he opens the fly of his trousers and reaches in to pull out his cock.  Your eyes widen when you see it, the length and the thickness of it.  Dr. Krennic is bigger than your ex-boyfriend, and he’s already proved that he has more skill than your ex-boyfriend.

You whimper at the loss of Dr. Krennic’s fingers when he pulls them out, but you’re holding your breath as you watch him smear the slick on his fingers over the shaft of his cock.  He grips his cock, guides it to your entrance, and then he’s sliding into you, slow and steady and sure.  You groan with the satisfaction of feeling him stretch you open in a way even three of his fingers couldn’t achieve, his cock sinking deeper into you than they could.  Dr. Krennic moans too, a long, breathy sound that’s almost a sigh as he bottoms out in you and grins.

“You feel as good as I imagined,” he tells you in a rough murmur, lifting his hand and pressing his wet fingers between your parted lips.  He shallowly strokes your tongue, pushes down on it lightly, a suggestion of what he could be doing, a tantalizing, teasing hint of things he might do to you another day.  You suckle on his fingers, curling your tongue under them, tasting the tangy flavor of your pussy on them.  It’s then that Dr. Krennic rolls his hips and your breathing hitches and you moan embarrassingly loud.  

The slow, slick slide of his cock as he draws it out and then sinks back into you is mind-numbingly good, makes you wish you were with him on an actual bed.  You’d push him down or roll him over and ride him until you were both satisfied, until you were whimpering and tight around him, until he was gripping your hips hard enough to leave his fingerprints in your skin.  Instead, all you can do is wrap your legs around his hips and try to make him thrust harder-

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, wraps his hand around your throat instead.  It’s a firm grip, but he’s not squeezing, a warning of some kind as he opens his mouth, probably to chastise you, but he never has a chance to say the words when you keen, high-pitched and desperate.  For a moment, Dr. Krennic looks astonished, and then his eyes narrow with concentration as his hand tightens on the sides of your neck.  Even through your lightheadedness, his focus is reassuring, a sign that he won’t take you too far.

You’re gasping for breath as he continues rocking his hips, thrusting into you, his rhythm slightly faster than it was before.  You’re clenching around him, trying to keep him in you, but between trying to hold yourself up on the desk and his hand around your throat, there’s no way for you to control the situation.  You have to wonder if that was intentional on his part, or if he’s just reading your reactions and exploring what you seem to like.  Either way, you love it.

“Ordinarily, I wouldn’t introduce something so sensitive into a relationship so early,” Dr. Krennic says, sounding impressively conversational considering he’s still fucking you at a steady, tireless pace, “And I don’t have as much experience with breath play as I’d like, but you look like you’re enjoying yourself, Teacup.”  

“Y-yes, Master,” you stutter between labored breaths, loving how easily the pet name rolls off his tongue though it only presented itself maybe ten minutes ago.  It’s hard to tell how much time has passed when you can’t see the clock, not that you could concentrate long enough to read it.  You’ve gotten wetter, every one of Dr. Krennic’s thrusts terminating in a filthy, wet squishing sound, an audible testament to how helplessly aroused you are.

“Listen carefully, Teacup,” Dr. Krennic says, his voice low as he catches your gaze, pinning you with an intense stare, “I’m going to make you cum, and when you get close, I want you to tell me so that I can let go, alright?”

You want to tell him that you don’t want him to let go, that you want to feel this way forever, the fullness of his cock in your cunt and the security of his hand encasing your throat, but instead you nod as much as you can.  He smiles, leans in to drop a quick kiss on your lips that you’re not quite fast enough to return.  You whine as he pulls away, but his other hand has dropped to the juncture of your bodies to rub your clit with his thumb as he picks up the pace.  His hips are thrusting steady and fast, his cock bottoming out in you on every stroke, every withdrawal accompanied by a wet sucking sound, every forward movement punctuated with a slippery squish.  

You can hear yourself getting loud again, inhaling quick and shallow between high pitched cries of pleasure that should embarrass you, but Dr. Krennic only looks encouraged as he continues rubbing his thumb back and forth over your sensitive clit.  The stimulation has your pussy twitching spastically, tightening, relaxing, then clenching again, leaves your legs shaking as they fall open, unconsciously trying to give him more access to your body.  You can feel yourself trying to somehow ride his movements, although moving too much will only dump you off the desk and you know it.

“You’re a good girl, Teacup,” Dr. Krennic growls, “Remember to tell me when you’re going to cum.”

You try to respond, to let him know that you remember, but you’re so lightheaded and lost in the pleasure that you’re not sure if you actually do.  There’s a heat building under your skin, pulsing in your twitching cunt, swirling in your clit under his thumb.  You’re getting close and-  

And you’re supposed to tell him, you need to tell him, so you gasp for breath and say, “Master-  Ah!  Master, I-  Oh god, please-  Master, I’m so close-”  

Dr. Krennic releases your throat and for a split second you think he’s about to pull away, but then the rush of it hits you and you’re orgasming.  Liquid heat snakes up your spine, diffusing through the rest of your body while pleasure lances through your nerves like lightning.  In the middle of it, you feel Dr. Krennic’s lips against your open mouth and his hands gripping your hips as he grinds against you, shoving his cock as deep into you as he can get it, his hips jerking.  

For a minute, the two of you remain like that, letting the final aftershocks of orgasm melt away, both of you shivering when you twitch around his sensitive cock.  At some point, his hands leave your hips, one settling on the desk beside your ass, the other running up your back to cup the back of your head and draw you forward until you’re resting your cheek on his shoulder.  You wrap your arms around Dr. Krennic’s ribs and try to focus on breathing as you lean against him, as he leans on the desk and tries to catch his breath too.  He shifts his stance a little and his cock slips out of you along with a steady dribble of wetness.  You have the far away thought that you should do something about that, but you can barely think about moving yet.

He turns his head, nuzzles your cheek, his soft, satisfied sigh gentle on your skin before he kisses your cheekbone, chuckles lightly.  He strokes your hair with light fingertips, and you close your eyes and purr at the simple, sensual pleasure of the touch.  He hums briefly before saying, “It’s really too soon to ask, but would you like to be my Teacup on a regular basis?”

“Oh,” you murmur, opening your eyes and trying to make your way out of your post-orgasm haze, “Yes, Dr. Krennic-”

“Orson,” he interrupts with a little laugh.

“Orson,” you repeat, lifting your head to nose at his jaw, “I would like to be your Teacup on a regular basis.”

“Where were you planning on going after… this?” he asks, “If there’s no one expecting you…”  He trails off meaningfully, tilting his head to look at you.

“Take me home, Orson,” you murmur, releasing his torso and lifting your arms to drape them over his shoulders again, “Please.”

“It would be my pleasure,” he purrs.

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to jump on the hot professor train because it's a fun trope, even if it looks like a bunch of other people have done it. But the Krennic/Reader tag in general could use a little more, so I did it anyway. As always, you can find me on tumblr [here](http://magpieminx.tumblr.com) and comments and kudos are appreciated. I always enjoy hearing what people liked!


End file.
